


To write a romance novel.

by SuccinctDisquisition



Category: Avengers, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Illiteracy, M/M, Tutoring, closet homosexual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-19 23:52:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4765658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuccinctDisquisition/pseuds/SuccinctDisquisition
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Clint can't read and he sort of develops inappropriate feelings for his tutor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Exposed

Clint was starving. Sometimes he loved having Tony Stark's notoriety at his disposal. He glanced around the swanky restaurant again while sliding into the booth next to Steve with a toothygrin on his face. He was so into the outing. Italian sounded great. Tony sat in a chair across from Steve with Bruce rounding off the table in front of himself. It was nice being seated immediately at a table far enough away from everyone else to be considered secluded without being completely cut off from all of the action. 

Something about the situation made the space between his shoulder blades itch uncomfortably but he ignored it. They were just a bunch of friends out to dinner. Nothing to worry about. He gave the restaurant another once over just in case but his hawk like gaze hadn't missed anything the first time. There was peace in the lull of patrons' chatter. 

He eagerly accepted the leather bound menu from the waiter with a quiet thanks before cracking open the booklet and feeling his smile slip right off his face. No pictures in this fancy place. Clint shrugged as he browsed the contents of the menu hurriedly. Nothing. Not a damn word he recognized. This place didn't even serve spaghetti and meatballs. He was sunk. He now remembered why he hated these rich people places. 

Next to the archer, Steve was already folding his menu and stirring the juice from a lemon wedge into his iced water. On the other side of the table Bruce was appreciatively murmuring something to Tony behind his menu. Clint's laser focused eyes darted around at other tables but even if he could make out what looked good, he was too far away to just point and say, 'Man, I could really go for some of that.' He turned his attention to well toned man next to him. "So, what are you getting?" He asked discretely. 

Steve smiled and opened up his menu. "Tony say's this place is known for its meatballs so I was thinking about trying that." Clint's eyes slid back to the pages in front of him avidly searching for the word spaghetti again. Two crosses. It has two crosses. I know this. Where is the damn thing? He kind of tuned out some of the super soldier's words but was brought right back when he was asked a question. "What are you thinking about?"

"I was really into the idea of lasagna." Clint hedged. 

Bruce turned his menu towards the illiterate blond and pointed at a block of curly looking text. "Looks like they don't have lasagna today. I might get that eggplant casserole though. Marscapone is my favorite." The curly haired scientist brought the booklet back up to his face, looking at it intently. 

Clint looked back down. Where was the fucking spaghetti? "What about you Stark? You eating fancy cheese for dinner too?"

Tony grinned. "Oh, I order off menu."

"But what are you getting?" Clint asked, getting flustered but not showing his discomfort. 

"Ceviche."

"That really is off menu." Bruce murmured. 

Clint's face scrunched up. "Isn't that raw fish? -and not Italian?" He added belatedly, hating how the thought of eating either eggplant or raw fish made him feel like gagging at the moment. What the fuck was Steve getting again? He turned to the other blond as the waiter returned. 

"Are we ready to order?" The mustached man asked in a rehearsed way. 

"Yeah. I'll have the Delille Chaluer with my ceviche tonight." Tony announced, handing over his menu poshly. 

Bruce smiled a bit at the strange man. "I'd like the special with your blueberry tea." Seriously? They had fucking blueberry tea on the menu but no spaghetti.

Clint's airways seized up when he realized it was his turn to order. "I uh- want spaghetti and meatballs."

The bow tied man straightened even more at that. "Of what variety, sir?" 

The SHIELD agent examined the menu again, feeling lost. "The meaty kind?" He guessed hopefully. 

Tony chortled. "What kind of pasta, bird brain." 

Oh. Clint angled his menu away from the others and pretended to read some random print that could be the restaurant's name for all he knew. "Angel hair pasta. I didn't realize you had so many different types here."

The skinny waiter nodded. "Add your drink sir?" 

"Dr. Pepper."

Clint was so relieved when the mustached man turned to Steve that he let out a breath of air he didn't realize he'd been holding. The geniuses across from him shot him a calculating look but he was well on his way to ignoring them both while eyeing some slutty dressed chick at the bar. He swore he would never go anywhere with the Avengers without Natasha again. 

It was a couple of weeks later, after a mission when Coulson wasn't around that Clint really felt stupid for not learning how to write properly. The mission had been too easy, leaving Clint alone with Thor, Steve, and Tony while Nat took care of the doc. Normally, this wouldn't have been so bad. Clint could just make some smart ass remark and leave Phil with his paperwork. Now, he was stuck doing it with the others. 

Steve and Tony were bickering about something or other about the battle when Thor peeked at Clint's form. "This is not a language I understand, friend. What was your response to 'nullification of threat'?" The Asgardian asked. 

Fourteen. Clint knew that was number fourteen on the questionnaire and looked at his answer. 'no trobb 2 sit zen 5 gawn but week' The archer cleared his throat. "I don't really think the ones that got away will be a problem. They looked about ready to shit their pants when we arrived."

Steve looked up at him sharply. "You really wrote that?" 

Tony grinned and snatched his paperwork while Clint's attention was on the other two. "Whoa!" The genius exclaimed. "What the hell is this? It's all gibberish. Is this what you turn in to SHIELD as some sort of payback for making you file reports on such trivial missions?"

Clint snatched it back, schooling his face to calmness. "It's a joke between me and Coulson. He likes trying to decipher what I come up with." He fibbed. 

Steve's brows rose when he saw the shaky shorthand Clint had scrawled across his paperwork. "I'm surprised you write your name correctly." He played at a mischievous smirk that looked so wrong on the national icon. 

Clint shrugged. It's the only thing I know how to spell for sure. "Wouldn't want him to think I was some illiterate agent or something."

Nat chose that moment to saunter into the room seeing Tony still trying to make out what Clint had written. She put a firm hand on the sheet and pulled it toward herself with a faked groan. "Not this again. Clint, Coulson is going to put you on some newbie detail if you keep handing in reports like this. Look, I'll do it this time but no more. You have to actually take your work seriously some time."

Steve gave the archer a disapproving look. "I should have known Agent Coulson was not a part of this. Clint, Natasha's right. I'd hate to lose a teammate because they played games when they should be taking things seriously."

Clint looked away from that almost belittling gaze. It wasn't like he had never tried to learn how to read or write. It was hard, especially when you were trying to do it in secret. Clint wished Phil was around so he could have just handed in his sucky report and gotten the hell out of there. 

It was a month after the night at the Italian restaurant before Clint felt like running far away from the Avengers and hiding in his shame. But he couldn't run. He couldn't do a damn thing. It was all his own fucking fault for not being able to read. 

It all happened so fast. They were in a high school where the villain of the week had taken up shop and was concocting some weird ass shit in the science department. There were still student hostages so they had decided on an all human party, basically meaning Banner went in disguised as a teacher rather than the Hulk acting like a bulldozer. Clint had been sent in with the pair of scientists because of his great vision. It was through a window that he spotted the perp making up some sort of bomb in the lab. 

A quick call later had led to six injured students and one broken legged Hawkeye. By some miracle, he was the only Avenger hurt. The bow had come out quickly as soon as the geniuses told him which barrel to shoot. He just saw the cylinder with a label and assumed it had chlorine in it. He would love to tell the pair that he couldn't see the label on the tank he shot but he knew it was no use. The two scientists could even read the canister and Banner had bad eyes. 

Well, long story short, the bomb went off around the time when Clint burst through the window of the classroom. Several kids got banged up and so did yours truly. At least Nat was around to apprehend the guy. 

"What the hell was that?" Tony fumed at the man in the cast. The billionaire was pacing, his eyes glittering like Clint was some new problem he had to solve. 

"Tony." Steve warned. 

Natasha cut in. "No. He's right. You never let your pride get in the way of work before."

"Pride?" Steve questioned. "He missed."

"No. He hit alright." Tony fumed. "He hit the wrong tank."

Bruce frowned at that. "He couldn't tell which tank had chlorine in it."

Tony threw his arms in the air. "It had a huge fucking Cl on the side of it. It could have been seen from space!"

Dark contemplative eyes met the archer's and the physicist said lowly. "You couldn't read the chemical symbols."

Clint squirmed. Fuck. They knew. "I-"

Nat stole into the conversation again. "Couldn't read them because he can't read at all." She accused. 

Steve huffed. "That's ridiculous."

Natasha waved a hand at her partner. "It's the truth. Tell them Clint."

He frowned and averted his eyes from the other heroes. "I couldn't read which one had 'C-L' on it. I just thought it would be the big one."

Tony fumed. "Why would a school have a huge ass tank of chlorine in it?"

"You can't read." Steve honed in on the meat of the problem immediately. "We've been working together for over a year now. How is it that none of us picked up on you not being able to read?"

Clint shrugged while Nat mumbled to herself. "I should have never agreed to cover for you. I should have known it would somehow compromise us."

Tony let out a pathetically weak laugh. "There's no way. This is some sort of joke, right?"

Steve pursed his lips at the smaller blond haired male. "No, it sort of makes sense. The mission reports, how you order take out. It all makes sense. But why would you hide this from us? We're your teammates. People could have died today because we didn't know you couldn't read."

Clint averted his eyes at that. Steve was right. Clint knew it was stupid to hide his faults now that he was on a team but he couldn't help it. He had spent his whole life on his own. It took all the trust he had to rely on Nat and Phil. How could he possibly trust the Avengers with his secrets. No. He still had to hold his cards close to his chest. The Avengers would never accept him if they knew the truth about him. 

"You're right." Banner agreed quietly. "This could become a big problem in the grand scheme of things. No one died today but what about next time? No, you need to learn how to read."

Clint recoiled defensively. "What? You think I haven't been trying. It isn't as easy as it looks even with all the tapes and stuff. Phil even got me 'Hooked on Phonics'. It isn't like I can just learn this shit over night."

"Calm down Clint." Tony said. "We'll get you into rehab."

"We're a team. We'll see to it you learn how to read. We'll do it together if we have to." Steve spoke consolingly. 

Bruce shook his head with a tiny smile. "I can teach him. I used to tutor in college. How's that sound?" The doctor asked, his deep rich eyes sliding across to Clint's baby blues. 

The archer could feel his face burning in anger and humiliation. "I can handle it on my own Doc. Just drop it."

"Obviously you can't." Tony huffed. 

Natasha fixed her partner with a cold stare, her green eyes as hard as emeralds. "I'm sick of trying to teach you. I say let the doctor give it a try. No harm letting someone who knows what they're doing take a shot at it. Go ahead Bruce, if you think you can teach him, go right ahead."

The physicist nodded keeping Clint's gaze. "What do you say Clint? We could devote an hour or two every day to tutoring. I'm sure you'll be reading all sorts of books in no time."

"As long as I don't have to read, 'See Spot. See Spot run. Run, Spot, run.'" Clint relented. 

Bruce chuckled. "I think your vocabulary is a bit too advanced for children's books. I have some books I think you might enjoy."

"I can get 'the Hunger Games' for Katniss." Tony offered. 

"Hell no." Clint dead panned. 

Natasha smirked at her long time friend. "Then it's all settled. Bruce will try to teach you and if that doesn't work, it's back to the flash cards."

Clint groaned at the memory of those stupid kids' cards. They were absolutely useless. He hated them. They made him feel so stupid. The SHIELD agent steeled himself. No matter how stupid it made him feel, he needed to do this. "Fine. You're on Doc." He grumbled and Bruce smiled pleasantly.


	2. Tutoring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a rather boring chapter. The story picks up from here. This is basically just to get from point a to point b.

Clint adjusted his hearing aid, picking up chatter from the next room. 

"Waste of time. You don't have to do this. I could hire someone who's job it is to teach people how to read." That was Tony. Clint could hear the snark in his voice. 

Bruce answered. "Oh yeah. Because if I couldn't read, I'd want someone I didn't even know coming in and possibly telling the whole world an Avenger never learned how to read or write."

"Well yeah-"

"I'm doing this Tony." Bruce cut in irritably. The doctor entered seconds later with his science buddy nowhere to be seen. Clint lounged comfortably on the sofa taking in the doctor's somehow rumpled attire. The man was in a buttery yellow shirt and sand colored slacks but managed to look like he was still on the run with his five o'clock shadow and wild hair. Did Bruce sleep in his button up shirts or something? The doc's appearance made Clint stifle a grin. "Good morning Clint. How's the leg?"

Clint smirked smartly. "Well my left leg feels great."

"And how about the one in the cast?" Bruce wheedled. 

The blond tugged up the leg of his dark grey sweats contemplatively. The pain killers were definitely helping. Clint didn't like feeling sluggish but with the Avengers it wasn't so bad. He knew they had his back. "It's not great but not as bad as it could have been." He admitted. He hated knowing it was all his fault so many got hurt. One of the kids had a compound fracture. She would be in some serious pain. 

Bruce nodded with a furrowed brow. "Is there anything you'd like me to get you before we start? I don't plan on stopping for at least an hour so make yourself comfortable."

Clint spread his hands out in an all encompassing gesture. "It's not like I have anywhere to go anyway. So what? Flashcards?"

The doctor pulled a disgusted face at the suggestion. "No. Those cards you have are atrocious. You have too good a vocabulary to stick to cat and dog. Besides. I talked to Nat-"

"Oh great."

"And it seems like most of your trouble is with the alphabet itself. Once you know the letters and all the sounds they make, it's much easier to piece together words." Bruce explained patiently. "So I figured we could start there. Do you know the alphabet?"

Clint shifted uncomfortably. "My ABC's, no. I mean, I know some letters. I know how my name is supposed to look. I couldn't tell you all the letters in it though. But I know some. Like I know a, e, i, o, u, s, b, n, and I know what a few words are supposed to look like."

The dark haired man nodded. "So you basically know the vowels and a couple of consonants well. Let's just start at the beginning then. Here, write A." Clint frowned at the paper and pencil that were handed to him. "Can you write an A?" Bruce asked presumably because of the glare Clint gave the writing utensils. 

Clint nodded. "I can write one A. The one in my name. I know there are more than one." He explained. 

Bruce bobbed his head contemplatively. "Well, there are only two A's in English, upper and lower case. Just write the one you know and I'll explain the difference."

Clint nodded and nervously made a curve with a line, hoping the line was on the right side. "How's this?" He asked feeling like a kid looking for his father's approval. 

Bruce frowned when he angled the paper more toward himself. "This part up at the top is supposed to be closed. It's like a circle with a tail. That's how I always thought of it. See, do it like this." Bruce demonstrated and Clint felt his face flush. He remembered seeing the letter look like that. He really should have known better. He felt like an idiot. 

Clint took the paper and tried again feeling kind of excited when he got the other man's approval this time. They spent nearly an hour passing papers back and forth between them, writing the letters with Bruce explaining what sounds each of the simple symbols could make. Clint would repeat whatever sounds Bruce made and tried to commit the letter and sound to memory. In all, it wasn't so bad. 

At the end of the twenty-six letters, the tutor looked at his watch. "Alright. How about we go through the alphabet one more time and sound out each letter." Clint nodded, determinedly working hard to remember each different noise all of his letters represented. Bruce smiled at the agent afterwards and shook his hand. "Good job Clint. I knew this was going to be easy. Next time we can review the alphabet and start learning some words."

"I know some words." The blond defended. 

Bruce crossed his arms and shook his head, looking down to probably hide a smile. His dark eyes looked up gleaming with mirth. "You know a lot of words Clint. I meant let's try to get some of that amazing vocabulary onto paper."

Clint felt his face heat again under that laughter filled gaze. "Oh." He uttered, wondering if the doctor was in someway making fun of him. He didn't think it would be good manners to threaten to maim his teacher so the archer just let it go. "Thanks for the help Doc."

The smaller man shrugged uncomfortably. "It's not a problem. I only wish we would have done this sooner."

"Yeah." Clint agreed uncomfortably. 

"Is there anything you need before I head down to the lab?" 

Clint glared at the other man playfully. "I broke a leg Doc, I'm not a paraplegic."

Bruce chuckled again making Clint blush more. "See? Your vocabulary isn't the problem. Tomorrow we can sound out and try to spell paraplegic. How's that sound?"

"Sounds great Doc." Clint droned with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. 

Bruce nodded. "Tomorrow, same time, same place?"

The blond gave the other man a tight smile. "Sounds like a plan."

Days passed and Clint found Bruce was right about knowing the alphabet helping him learn words. After practicing sounding out words, Bruce started asking Clint to read to him. They started with The Three Musketeers since Clint liked the movie. Reading was slow going and Clint felt awkward with how slowly some of the bigger words came to him. But the worst part of it was how close the physicist would sit to look over his shoulder. It made Clint feel like a child. Did Bruce really think he would make up his own words or something?

"D’Artagnan, hearing the Musketeer swear, wished to escape from the cloak, which blinded him, and sought to find his way from under the folds of it. He was part- partic-" Clint stumbled. 

"Particularly," the archer shivered as hot breath ghosted along the side of his neck. Since when was Bruce that close to him?

"Particularly," Clint mumbled. He continued his slow reading. "anxious to avoid marring the freshness of the mag- mag-nifi-cent bald- baldric? we are acquainted with; but on timidly opening his eyes, he found himself with his nose fixed between the two shoulders of Porthos--that is to say, exactly upon the baldric.

"Alas, like most things in this world which have nothing in their favor but appearances, the baldric was glittering with gold in the front, but was nothing but simple buff behind. Veen- vain- vaingle..." Blond brows furrowed over confused blue eyes. 

"Vainglorious." Bruce supplied and Clint felt icy hot run through his veins at the puff of breath that assaulted his neck. 

"Vainglorious." Clint repeated feeling something stir in his guts. He stared blankly at the book, trying to decipher what it was he was feeling. He wasn't particularly upset that Bruce had to fill in some of the more difficult words for him. He just felt odd about Bruce looking over his shoulder speaking quietly near his ear. 

Suddenly, the extra warmth of a nearby body faded away as Bruce put some distance between the two men to look at his pupil askance. "Are you alright Clint?"

Clint nodded, stifling a blush. "Yeah. I just don't know some of these words. What does vainglorious even mean?"

"Tony." Bruce murmured eliciting a chuckle from the blond. "It means being overly proud and showy. Maybe we should switch to a more modern book though. I noticed the names are giving you trouble still."

Clint closed The Three Musketeers. "What did you have in mind?"

Bruce shrugged. "What's your favorite genre?"

The blond blushed. "You don't want to read that with me."

"Well what is it?" Bruce probed. 

Clint averted his gaze from his tutor's. "Don't tell the others. Okay?"

"We aren't kids Clint." The doctor pointed out. 

"Say you won't say anything to the other guys." Clint commanded. 

Bruce acquiesced. "Sure. I won't tell anyone."

The archer nodded and steeled his nerves to say. "I really like romance. I've always wanted to read one of those cheesy romance novels you hear about housewives reading."

Bruce smiled obviously trying to hold back laughter. "Well you're in luck. I happen to have a few romance novels actually."

"Really?"

Bruce smirked. "I'll bring them tomorrow." Clint felt his heart flutter at the look the curly haired man gave him. No. No no no no. This can't be happening, he thought.


End file.
